Dreadful Day
by Everthought
Summary: Merlin's strawberry bushes are off-limits, and that's that. But on this dreadful day, when all he wants to do is remember her, someone has broken the rule...in a big way. A poisoned breakfast sets in motion a chain of events that will change Camelot forever. Dangerous secrets will be revealed, minds will spin, friendships will be tried, and truths will be spoken. No Slash!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

**Never thought the show did justice to Merlin's grief over Freya. I feel like they just sort of threw her in when it pleased them and just forgot about her most of the time. Ugh. Made me mad. Merlin's love life is important! (: Anyway this started as a drabble about his grief and then, well, something unexpected happened with Merlin's strawberry bushes! This is a possible reveal fic and I think we've all got room for a little Merlin BAMF!ness and some Arwen, perhaps, and of course, some Gaius and Gwaine and the rest of our lovely knights of Camelot. Um, time frame is sort of unknown. Arthur's king, Lancelot is deceased):, but none of our other round table knights are dead, and I'm not yet sure if Morgana will be featured or not, but that's assuming I continue. I may decide to leave it as a oneshot, or like a two-shot or three-shot or something. We'll see.**

**Oh, right. Guess who doesn't own Merlin?**

**Me. **

**And he's not making me any money either. **

**On with the fic, then:**

Merlin had a patch of strawberries. It was a small patch, right in front of the queen's flower garden. Gwen had generously donated the little piece of dirt when he'd asked her in private, and they'd planted the bushes together one summer morning, queen and manservant on their hands and knees in the dirt with spades. Somehow Gwen had seemed to know that it was important to Merlin, and they had worked in silence; she hadn't raised a single question as to the oddness of the request. The strawberries were beautiful, perfect. The servant tended lovingly to them every morning. At first the knights, and Arthur, had teased him about it. But it quickly became understood that Merlin's strawberries were off limits. No one touched them, and no one joked about them. They were just there: bright, luscious red fruit tucked inside a neat little picket fence. And everyone knew that they were strawberry bushes of the king's manservant and that they were off limits. And that was that.

…

Merlin shivered. Drawing the ragged blanket closer to him, he rolled over on his cot. Laying on his side, he stared straight ahead at the wall, focusing on a shining strand of web from which a spider swung precariously. He counted in his head, recited the alphabet twice, then the alphabet of the Old Tongue, five times. He blinked at the spider. For maybe twelve seconds they stared at each other. Then Merlin's head hit the pillow. His will dissolved and he decomposed into sobs that wracked his whole body.

Gaius was up after the first wave of sunlight hit the window of the physician's chambers. As the second and third assaults of the dawn continued, throwing beams of light on the various instruments and tomes that cluttered the shelves and tables of his quarters, he stood outside his ward's room. The door was slightly ajar, and the sodden, shuddering mass on the cot was clearly visible. The old man watched Merlin cry, his heart aching as if the boy's pain were his own. He felt impossibly old, then, much older than he was - and he was very old.

He hesitated in the doorway; he couldn't bear to see his boy, his young, cheerful boy in such pain, in the throes of such grief, yet crossing the threshold seemed, somehow, like a violation. He felt helpless. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could say, nothing that could ease the pain.

As a physician, there had been countless times when a patient was beyond saving, when nothing he could give, no remedy, no potion, could ward off the fingers of death. The hardest part was putting on a brave face and looking into the eyes of the wife or the father or the lover and telling them the truth, watching as the hope in their eyes died, pasting on a hollow smile for the dying man, squeezing his hand and telling him he'd been so brave. It was that feeling he felt now.

Gaius was empty, hollow, and his heart was breaking in melancholy harmony with his ward's.

The boy moaned from his bed and the pain in his voice was so thick, so heartrending that Gaius's knees felt weak. He grabbed the side of the doorframe to steady himself, and tears leaked silently from his own eyes. "Oh Merlin," he whispered. "Oh my boy, my dear, brave boy."

Muffled from underneath the blanket, a weak voice answered him: "Gaius. Gaius, she's gone. She's gone. It's been- it's been five years. So why, why does it still hurt so bad?"

His answer was inadequate, and he felt it keenly, but he crossed the room and seated himself at the foot of Merlin's bed. "Some days are worse than others, but you've been so brave," he soothed, his wrinkled hand finding Merlin's raven-tufted head. He stroked the boy's hair with a sturdy gentleness, but his other hand, resting on his own lap, trembled. "Look at you, look at you, my boy. Standing strong, fighting by Arthur's side. You've done so much. Look how you've grown, look how you've changed, look at all that you've done. You bear a great burden, and I wish you didn't have to, but you've been so remarkably brave. I couldn't possibly be more proud of you." Gaius hesitated. "And I think," he added softly, "that she couldn't possibly be more proud of you either."

Gaius looked down. Underneath his hand, Merlin had stilled, the sobbing had stopped. "Merlin?"

There was silence for a second, then the boy sat up. His eyes were bleary and bloodshot and his his face wet and splotchy from crying. He wiped away his tears with the heels of his hands and then took a deep, calming breath. "I'm sorry, Gaius. I don't know why I broke down like that. It hasn't been that bad since...for a while."

Gaius took one pale, thin hand in his own and squeezed it. "Don't be sorry, never be sorry. You deserve a moment every now and then and especially today…" He trailed off, internally cursing himself for reminding Merlin of the date. Today was the anniversary of Freya's death.

Merlin, however, took no notice. Rising to his feet, he shrugged on his jacket, straightened the rumpled neckerchief about his neck - he had slept in his clothes- and, running a hand through his bedhead, hurried to the door. "I'm late!" he panicked. "Arthur'll kill me!"

"Perhaps you should take the day off, Merlin." Gaius got to his feet as well, surprised by the immediate transition in his ward's behavior.

But Merlin shook his head, wiped at his face with his neckerchief, and was at the door in a matter of seconds, his shoe laces undone and his boots on the wrong feet.

"Grab some breakfast at least," Gaius called after him.

Merlin shook his head. "Strawberries today," he said. "I'll grab some on my way to Arthur's." And with that he was out the door and away, leaving Gaius staring worriedly after him.

….

When Merlin arrived at Arthur's chambers, huffing and puffing, with a breakfast tray balanced dubiously in his left hand and a handful of strawberries tucked firmly in his jacket pocket, the king was already seated at his table, digging into another plate of breakfast, Gwen beside him.

At his entrance the king and queen looked up, Gwen smiling and Arthur frowning.

"Book gho 'as binally dfeigmed to bghrace mus bmith 'is gmovious pbhvevemce," Arthur mocked through a mouthful of food, spraying bits of lettuce and cheese as he talked. (Translation: "Look who has finally deigned to grace us with his glorious presence").

"Arthur," Gwen chided, shooting him a disapproving frown and handing him a napkin. She smiled again at Merlin. "Good morning, Merlin. Do come join us; let's not waste a perfectly good breakfast." She indicated the tray in his hand.

Merlin placed the tray on the table, but didn't move to sit down, casting his eyes somewhere, anywhere, but Gwen's face. He struggled with his breaths, his chest heaving. He felt sick, claustrophobic. His neckerchief was suddenly suffocating him, his jacket was too tight. The walls of the room seemed to be pressing in on him from all sides. He could feel his breathing get tighter, catching in his chest.

Gwen studied him intently, a crease forming between her eyebrows as she took in his disheveled appearance, red-rimmed eyes, and labored breathing. "Merlin." She got to her feet, alarm and concern in her voice. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Arthur, who had been pigging out until this point, looked around, noticed his wife, standing, and pushed himself to a standing position as well, hand going to his sword belt. "What? Merlin?" There was a piece of lettuce on his cheek and his lower lip was dripping sauce.

Merlin fought a feeling of panic that took over him, leaving him shaking harder. This was not just grief, this was…

H's knees buckled and he reached drunkenly for the chair in front of him, but he missed completely, and was sent sprawling on the floor. The world swirled above and around him, and faces consumed his vision, scared eyes and frantically working lips. Voices surrounded him, bleeding into each other, rebounding off the insides of his skull. Everything throbbed, his insides felt like they were imploding.

The strawberries spilled out of his pocket and his hand, and one came to a rolling stop directly in front of his eyes. He focused on it, noticing, for the first time, the unnatural shine to it, the sickly sweet, completely inappropriate smell. The red consumed his vision, he was blinded by it, choked by it. The voices were growing louder, the sounds of footsteps and movement echoed in his mind but he could not respond. The too-shiny, too-smelly strawberry filled his eye-sight, and all he could think was

_Oh._

And then the strawberry's red, the red of the Pendragon crest, the red of blood, smoldered into the black of night and Merlin's head thumped to the ground.

**A/N: No, not a death fic. I'm not that mean(: and I love Merlin as much as you guys. I plan on continuing - I've got some ideas, but it really depends on the response I get. Any reviews are greatly appreciated! If you've got comments, questions, criticisms, ideas for moving along, I'd love to hear all of it. Your feedback is invaluable! Hope to hear from you all! You have no idea how wonderful a review feels - I get all warm and fuzzy inside. Until next time, then! **

**~~~~~EverThought**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Oh my gosh! OH MY GOSH! I am so surprised and pleased with the response I've gotten for this! Agghahaah! You guys made me so excited! I would've posted earlier if not for an angry chem teacher who seems determined to bury the school in work:(**

**Anyway, thanks so much to everyone who read the last post and especially to my 16 wonderful reviewers! You guys are the best!**

**-Everthought(:**

Merlin's footsteps had not yet faded down the hall when another pair of boots came racing into the physician's chambers. The owner of the boots paused at the doorway, panting. Thinking at first that his ward had changed his mind about breakfast, Gaius didn't turn, simply lowering himself onto the bench and patting the place beside him as he ladled stew into a bowl.

But the visitor soon regained his voice, which, when it sounded behind him, ragged and desperate, startled Gaius with its un-Merlin-ness. "Please sir, are you the physician?"

Gaius turned to regard a young boy of about twelvish with sandy hair, a good deal more than his fair share of freckles, and frightened, watery eyes.

Gaius regarded him warily. "That would be me."

The boy looked tense and scared. "It's me mother," he whispered, sounding terrified. "She's sick. I canna' wake her. She's sweatin' and moanin' and she don' know me." His eyes filled with tears. "Please, sir. You gotta help her. Please."

Gaius hesitated for less than a moment before pushing aside his bowl of stew and coming to his feet. He looked around the room, his mind quickly transitioning to physician-mode. "Sweating, moaning, you said?" He asked, grabbing a satchel from a hook on the bookshelf and opening his herb cabinet. "What else, what else? Did she eat anything strange last night? How long have the symptoms persisted? How was she yesterday?"

"I...I dunno, sir," the boy stuttered. "She looked fine to me, maybe… a bit tired. I woke this morning and she just wouldn't wake. That's all I know." His watery eyes became panicky. "That's all I know," he repeated again, staring at Gaius as if afraid he would strike him.

Gaius swallowed, frustrated, but attempted a kind smile for the boy's benefit. "That's alright," he said as gently as he could. He scanned quickly through his herb collection, chose several, and stuffed them, along with some vials and cloth, into his bag. He bent down so that his nose was level with the boy's, ignoring the painful, creaking reminder in his back that he was not as young as he once was. "We're going to help her. It's going to be alright. Don't worry."

The boy flinched his gaze away and nodded at the bookshelf, his adam's apple bobbing. Tears streamed down his face again. He mumbled something that Gaius didn't quite catch.

"What was that?" Gaius asked kindly. "I'm an old man. My hearing's not so good anymore," he said lightly.

The boy looked directly at him, then, and his eyes were round and wet and scared. "I said-" he whispered, his voice cracking, "I said, 'let's go.'" Then he turned and dashed out of the room and Gaius followed, bewildered, as he struggled to keep up with the boy.

…..

"MERLIN!" Arthur moved towards his manservant; the chair behind him toppled and hit the floor with a dead, hollow thud. His hand swept across the table as he leapt towards the fallen man, and, in his haste, he sent cutlery and china flying. Vaguely, he registered the sound of glass breaking, of plates and glasses falling to the floor.

"What's happening, what's happening to him?" Arthur shouted, barely aware that his voice was high-pitched and frightened. Guinevere, next to him, just shook her head to indicate her own confusion. Her hands leapt to her mouth as she knelt next to Merlin's body, which was shaking and convulsing on the ground, the mouth frothing, the eyes vacant, the lips blue.

"Oh my God," she whispered, reaching out to touch the shuddering chest, just below the point of the red neckerchief. "What do we do?"

Arthur was momentarily paralyzed with the horror of the situation; Merlin's twitching body filled his eyesight, and he could not form words to express his horror or to alleviate it. He, too, sank to his knees in front of his servant. His hands went, tremblingly, to the messy-haired head, and his lips quivered in fear.

When his hand touched the clammy, quaking brow, however, something inside him broke and he snapped out of his stupor. Sheathing Excalibur, he gathered up his unconscious friend in his arms, noticing, as he did so, the hollow, deathly cast of Merlin's face, and hating the observation. "Guards!" He bellowed hoarsely. "Guards!"

"Arthur," Guinevere said quietly, "Arthur, look."

He followed her pointed finger to a shiny, fat strawberry, which lay on the ground, inches from where Merlin's head had been. Looking down, he saw more, a sort of trail of fallen strawberries that ended at his own feet. Steeling himself, Arthur's gaze traveled upwards, to the manservant in his arms. His blue eyes locked on Merlin's ghostly pale hand, the fingers of which were clamped tightly and uncompromisingly around another fat, shiny strawberry. _Oh no._

The two guards, as well as Sirs Gwaine, Leon, and Percival, rushed into the king's chambers just in time to hear a very impressive employment of Camelot's most colorful curses. Percival quirked a silent eyebrow and the guards' ears reddened. Leon, and even Arthur, momentarily distracted from the near-dead body of his best friend, turned to look at Gwen, who clapped her hands over her mouth again, face burning. Gwaine, who gave Gwen a distinctly respectful look, clearly would've said something more on the subject of Her Majesty's impressive array of swear words, had his eyes not swept over the body in Arthur's arms.

The knight's face lost its mischievous smile, the spark flew from his eyes and in an instant he was at Arthur's side to support Merlin's weight, pausing only to top Gwen's performance with a few tavern-honed phrases that caused even the solid, expressionless mass that was Percival to blush deeply.

"We need to get to Gaius," Arthur said urgently.

Gwaine grunted in agreement and the two men, balancing the servant's body between them, rushed out of the chambers after Percival and Leon, who had run ahead to clear the way and prepare Gaius.

Gwen, left behind, wrapped her hand in the folds of her skirt and picked up a strawberry, careful not to let it touch her skin. If it was….If it was…._poison_, perhaps it would help Gaius if he could examine the strawberries. Perhaps it would help him find an antidote.

Unbidden, the image of Merlin's convulsing body leapt into her mind, and she closed her eyes, shuddering against the wall._ If anything happened to him…_

She couldn't let herself finish the thought, and so, wiping her eyes, she set about collecting the rest of the discarded strawberries in her skirt, repeating to herself that Merlin would be okay, that Gaius knew what he was doing, that everything would be fine.

…

The boy's frantic run came to an abrupt halt in front of a small cottage with a thatched roof. He turned, with the usual frightened look, to Gaius, who was heaving from the exertion."We're here," he whispered softly.

"Come on then," Gaius panted, collecting himself. "Let's go in."

The boy stared at the door for a few seconds and then pushed it open, reluctantly, it seemed. He held it for Gaius, who thanked him and entered, still sore and out of breath.

Gaius looked around the dark room, rubbing his aching joints. An empty cot stood under a tiny window, a ragged blanket drawn across it. The only other furniture was a rickety table, upon which rested a beat-up pot and a bowl. It was deserted. "Where's your mother?"

The boy just looked at him. "I'm sorry," he whispered, backing away, eyes filling with tears again. "I'm really sorry."

"Sorry?" Gaius asked, bewildered. "Wha-?"

But the boy had turned and run back out from where they had come.

Gaius started forward, his brow creased in confusion, when a voice behind him chilled him to the bone.

"Hello Gaius, so nice to see you."

Every hair on Gaius's head seemed to stand on end. His heart, which was pounding in his chest from the exercise, nearly stopped for a moment, then continued to accelerate, heedless of how close it had come to stilling and dropping Gaius where he stood.

He took a deep breath and turned, feeling every second of his age in his heart.

…

"Gaius!" The two knights burst into the physician's chambers, yelling. When, upon their entry, they were met with no stern, white-haired gaze, Leon and Percival circled the room frantically, calling out, but the rooms were empty. Percival, in a rare show of emotion, punched the wall. Leon's eyes swept the bookshelf and the messy tables, looking for some miracle cure, perhaps a bottle labeled, "Feed to Merlin in case he has a seizure." Instead, they settled on a bouquet of hideously perfect red roses. Not knowing exactly why, he felt himself drawn to them. He approached the table, Percival behind him, and his hand reached falteringly to the flowers. They were tied with a very familiar ribbon, green and rich. He picked up the bouquet, and a card fell out. The writing was in perfect, looping cursive. Leon had seen it often enough. He had once spoken with, laughed with the writer, even fancied her as a boy. The words blurred in his vision as his eyes teared up, but as he dropped the card and a lock of grey hair fell out, he knew. Even without reading it, he knew. He turned to Percival and mouthed, simply, "Morgana."

A look of horror dawned on the big man's face, and he opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted as a set of footsteps entered behind them.

The two men drew their swords and whirled around, half expecting the witch herself, but they found themselves poised to attack a grim-looking Mordred, hands raised in surrender.

"What're you doing here?" Percival asked, his voice unusually rough.

Mordred, with two fingers, moved the tip of Percival's sword away from his chest, raising his eyebrows. "Emr- Merlin," he paused, eyes narrowing, "is hurt. I'm here to help."

"How do you know that?"

Mordred gave him a disparaging look. "The king and Gwaine are carrying his unconscious body through the castle. I thought I'd come here first and help Gaius prepare. Looks like we had the same idea."

Leon sheathed his sword readily, and hit Percival lightly in the arm, indicating he do the same. Percival, after giving Mordred a meaningful look, copied Leon's motion.

"Let's clear a patient bed," Mordred suggested, eyeing the other two as he lowered his arms.

They grunted and helped him clear one, spreading the covers and propping up a pillow just in time for Arthur and a black-eyed Gwaine to come through with Merlin, Gwen trailing behind.

"What kept you?" Asked Leon, as they gently lowered Merlin on the bed.

Arthur shook his head. "He had another convulsing fit on the landing, decked Gwaine with, I might add, surprising force." He looked mildly impressed for a moment, but his expression soon returned to one of concern and distress.

Gwaine growled. "Arthur dropped him."

Arthur looked angry. "He went crazy. There was no way I could've…I was afraid I'd hurt him if I held him down." He stopped to look at his limp manservant, and whispered, his voice vulnerable and un-kingly. "He can't die."

Gwaine, in a rare moment of tact, turned away from Arthur to give him some privacy. He looked around and nodded to acknowledge Mordred. "Where's Gaius?"

At that Arthur looked around as well.

There was a gasp. Gwen dropped what she'd been holding in her skirt- strawberries, Leon saw - and pushed past the knights, her eyes on the roses behind them. She picked them up with shaking hands and fingered the green ribbon, the beautifully-written card. "No," she breathed.

"What is it, Gwen?" Arthur asked worriedly, but did not leave Merlin's bedside.

She turned, her skirts swishing, and regarded them, her brown eyes terrified.

Leon, sensing his moment to step in, stooped to retrieve the fallen lock of grey hair that had been with the card and roses, and cleared his throat. When he looked to his king, however, words failed him.

All eyes in the room traveled from the lock of grey hair that could only be Gaius's to the telltale green ribbon in Gwen's hand.

It was Arthur, finally, who voiced the name on all of their minds.

"Morgana," he said quietly.

They all looked at each other, then, eyes haunted with the knowledge that Merlin was dying and Gaius was missing.

Time was running out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! It's EVERTHOUGHT. Surprised? This is an early update! Yes, yes it is. Are you happy? Yes? Good. **

**Mersan123: You can exhale now!:D**

**Now….a challenge to all my silent friends- (and its okay that u r silent. i still appreciate ur presence) - So here's the deal. I get enough reviews, then I will update AGAIN this weekend. Two updates in one weekend! AAAAH:) See I'm not as busy this weekend. And reviews boost my self esteem like you can't believe! Anyway, guys, remember I'm open to comments, questions, (constructive) criticism, and especially suggestions. I'm really rushing headlong into this thing and improvising as I write, so some guidance as to what you guys would like to see would be nice. Special thanks to dragoonthegreat and princ3ssf33t for suggestionish reviews! Also, thank you to Fai's smile for mentioning something that I think I will use. **

**~~~~~~Everthought!:DDDDD**

Mordred was the first to break the tense silence. "The strawberries."

"What?" Gwen asked, looking startled.

"The strawberries," Mordred gestured impatiently. "Let me see them."

"Oh…" Blushing, Gwen dropped Merlin's hand, which she'd been stroking reassuringly, and scrambled to pick up the fallen fruit.

Leon, Gwaine, and Percival watched the exchange with hopeful eyes, reassured by the promise of a distraction, gladly diverted from the thought of their helplessness. Arthur, however, didn't move a muscle; his eyes did not budge from Merlin's sickbed.

Gwen deposited a strawberry in Mordred's waiting palm and he brought it to his eye level, examining it carefully, heart plummeting as he did so. He had hoped - hoped to high heaven and back- that his senses were wrong, but if he was honest, this only further confirmed what he'd known for certain since early that morning. He drew a breath, wincing internally as the magic inside him writhed and groaned. He flicked an eye to where Merlin, sweaty and pale on the bed, writhed and groaned.

This was dark magic; he'd had some experience with it before, but used against Emrys... He couldn't even imagine what the consequences would be.

_Morgana, what have you done?_

The strawberry in front of him glared accusingly at him and inside him his thoughts waged a silent war with each other. What could he do? What could he do? On the bed Merlin's body jumped, startling the company around his bedside; Mordred grunted as a spike of pain shot its way through his stomach.

_I've got to help him,_ he thought. _For him, for me, for us all._ When his gaze lifted from the strawberry in his hand, he found every eye in the room trained on him, except for Arthur, whose fingernails were buried in the beam of Merlin's cot, and who was staring painfully at his friend's twitching body.

"I know this poison." Mordred spoke, finally. And then Arthur did look up, and his eyes, shockingly wet, were beseeching.

"I think I can…" Mordred looked again at Merlin, the mighty Emrys, who was jerking about in a terrifying fashion about the rickety cot, his sharp movements in time with the painful spasms of the magic that was swirling just beneath Mordred's skin, tantalizing, tempting. His resolve hardened. He met Arthur's gaze directly, unblinkingly. "I can help him."

Arthur stood. His back was rigid as he stepped away from Merlin. The knights and Guinevere, following his example, made room for Mordred around Merlin's bedside and Mordred, casting away the strawberry, made his way around the cot. At Merlin's head, he knelt.

He placed one hand on the sweaty, shaking forehead. Merlin was hot with fever, the skin burning up. And that's when Mordred felt it, and terror coursed through him even as a thrill ran up his body. Pure, raw, unadulterated power; magic, like a blazing ball of white hot fire, just below the surface, brimming, boiling, building, and he knew, with another thrill of terrified excitement, that neither of them would be able to resist; neither of them would be able to hold it in.

Delirious, he cast his hand about for something, anything, to use as an excuse, to disguise what was really about to happen. His control was slipping, but he fought to contain himself, to maintain the boundaries. He breathed hard with the effort. Then the feeling in all his limbs seemed to spark and flame and he felt his magic explode inside of him. He ducked his head to hide his eyes, hoping that Merlin's would stay closed, and yelled, as loud as he possibly could: "GET DOWN!"

It was sheer luck. The other five occupants of the room had no sense for magic, not an iota or inkling of magical talent. Still, it was a wonder, a wonder indeed, that they could feel the surge of crackling power in the room and not know it for what it was. Perhaps they had simply not felt the tension; perhaps their completely mundane and unmagical bodies had misinterpreted the power and had just kicked up their battle reflexes in response. Whatever the case, when Mordred roared his warning, their reaction was immediate.

Arthur dove for Guinevere and crashed to the floor as if to escape a flaming arrow. Percival and Leon, ever the king's knights, dove for Arthur, and landed in a heap atop him. Gwaine, however, in the split second it took for the others to fling themselves to the ground, tripped over Percival's tree trunk-like leg. He flipped, his head turned, and this was how, as his body crashed to the ground, his eyes found Merlin. Merlin, whose eyes blazed like fierce golden suns, whose whole body seemed to glow, to radiate bolts of sheer, intense, concentrated power. These bolts of power seemed to shoot from Merlin an imbed themselves in the unprotected chest of a prone-formed Mordred who lay suspended in the air, spread-eagled, arms extended, ankles dangling a good six hands above the ground.

The earth rumbled; the air seemed to ignite. The windows trembled until the force was too great and the glass shattered, raining shards of clear and colored glass on the whimpering bodies on the floor, but Gwaine's eyes stayed wide and open and fixed on Merlin and Mordred. The wind whipped at the curtains, tangled in Mordred's and Merlin's hair and in Gwaine's, temporarily obscuring his vision. Things scattered: books, medicinal instruments, papers, other random objects. The herb cabinet tore itself out of the wall and crashed to the ground. And Gwaine, mute in shock, continued to stare.

When, finally, the wind and fire died down, when the blazing gold of Merlin's eyes dimmed and his body collapsed once more on the cot, seemingly lifelessly, and Mordred was dropped to the ground with a grunt and a stumble, Gwaine, shakingly, raised a hand to brush the hair out of his eyes.

Mordred, his chest heaving but eyes bright, turned, and their eyes met. And then shock and alarm crossed his face and Gwaine stared back at him, blinking stupidly at the enormity of what he had just witnessed.

…**..**

**Haha. I'm getting bad with these cliffyish endings. I know things may seem really confusing right now, but for once I have a sort-of plan. Bear with me; things will start to iron themselves out! I think that in the next chapter we'll see some of Merlin's POV as well as the first appearance of our lovely villain, and I'll explain what the heck just happened and why the heck it just happened (: **

**And if you want that real soon, review please! :D**

**~~~~~~~~~Everthought**


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